


When leaves begin to die

by Nestra



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-09
Updated: 2005-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/pseuds/Nestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Autumn is a state of mind," she says."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When leaves begin to die

**Author's Note:**

> Comment fic for Pearl-o. Very big spoilers for the movie "Serenity."

The cockpit is quiet, just a 'verse full of stars outside, his to look at and cherish, and maybe to try and forget a little bit more.

"Leaves are beginning to fall," River says, sitting in the co-pilot's seat.

He shakes his head. "No leaves in space. No seasons, for that matter. Seasons are for them that's dirt-bound."

"Autumn is a state of mind," she says, flipping a switch to adjust the mix. Watching her brings back memories of Wash, and he wonders if she does it on purpose, poking at the scabs all of them still have, or if she even knows what she's doing. "If you feel like winter's approaching, then it is. It doesn't have anything to do with planetary spin."

"So autumn is just a planet's way of being downhearted?" It almost makes sense. They've all started to understand her a little better, though it's hard to say if the change is in her or them. Fewer of them left now, and they've drawn tight together.

He stares into the black. There was a time when the sight comforted him. He felt like he could look into it forever, wander anywhere he wanted to. But now, he thinks his sight stops at the dirt they're buried in, three graves like holes in his sky.

"Linear time is an illusion," River offers, and she moves over to him, closes his eyes with the touch of her small fingers. He can see it. Green shoots peeking through a white fall of snow. He can hear the runoff flooding the creek, rushing past and making promises of sun and warmth. "It's always spring somewhere."

"You trying to make me feel better?" he mumbles against the palm of her hand, before he pulls back and opens his eyes.

She frowns down at him, then takes her chair again. He hasn't figured out what that frown means yet, and he doesn't really think that he ever will. What he's learned is that it doesn't matter. She'll make herself known, one way or the other.

River nudges the controls, and they swing around a little to stare straight in the face of the nearest star. Maybe on that piece of dirt where his friends are buried, it's spring right now. No reason to believe that it ain't.


End file.
